The fracturable
by SILENTSANCTUARY
Summary: Where the mind comes apart in slivers of fragments. Series of drabbles in Anna Morgan's perspective, relating to Sadako.
1. Circles

**The circles are endless as the ripples offset by a pebble in the water.**

It was always the same routine she followed during the hours when she was half-crazed and inconsolable. In the mirror she would always stare, analyzing the curve of her neck, the vacant eyes of someone's spirit who had left her body, and most predominately, the dull quality of her hair, which she could never be satisfied nor content with.

From early morning to late afternoon, she would comb her long tendrils of hair, fingers twitching and twisting to unravel the knots that gathered at the base of her neck. She often hummed to ease her restless mind, low and high tunes rising up and down to form a perfect melody that soothed her sensitive nerves.

In the middle of combing, bursts of sanity would appear out of random in her fractured mind, and what she hated more than the insanity was the sanity, because it had become so terrifying to face reality. It was like finding herself appearing on a high ended cliff where departed from her true state of mind, she would watch the true meaning and magnitude of how she was destroying herself. There would be times when she would be humming, and she would not realize that the very song she was humming was derived from Sadako, until she set the comb down and she truly looked at herself into the depth of the mirror.

A scream would rise unbidden to her lips, and in her mind's eye, the mirror glass would shatter, spider lines snaking out in a circular motion on the reflective surface when in reality, the glass remained intact and she would see herself looking in the mirror with her skin turned ashen and her hair returned to its disarranged state.

She would weep, for she saw her lurking in shadows, in every passing corner. The ghost of her walked erratically, tracking water beneath her footsteps. Some days, she saw the terrifying ghost looking at her, bones jutting out from waxen skin, and fingernails chipped and bloody. The black lips would form words, and the syllables would follow her. If those words had power, they would strangle her.

"Why did you do this to me, Mommy?"


	2. Freefall

**She sits by the windowsill and sees a fly that struggles to beats its wings, before it loses air and freefalls into the ground below, where its legs twitches before it lies dead.**

She would sleep, but as insanity drove deeper within her, it stole the hours away from her. Back she would go to the chair seated in front of the mirror, back to the hours of running the comb through stringy folds of hair. Some days, when the feel of oily hair grew unbearable, she would plunge her head into a vat of cold water, and even this would bring memories rising to the surface like the foam from the ocean or the –

Miasma of blood forming a crooked ring in the water from where in the deep caverns of the well, where she saw her daughter's head floating upwards, hair spread out around her in a dark mass. She had struggled to close the lid of the well, but in the end she had managed to seal it shut, muffling the scream that ascended from below. Her fingernails had chipped in the laborious process, but the deed was done. She had blocked off the final escape that Sadako had, cutting off the only thread she had left to civilization, so even if she were to claw her way out, there would be no exit, only the ring of light that told her that the way out was there, only it was impossible to reach.

She had made it so that she was far away from being able to harm her, but it was only a false security that she had bestowed herself with.

Because even though she had killed Sadako, she had only killed the body that housed her spirit. She was far from being able to kill her in memory.


	3. Ghosts

**Fade in and fade out, breathe in, breathe out, live like a ghost and even this is a momentous daily routine.**

She wasn't quite dreaming, but when you're disconnected from the rest of the world, it certainly feels like it. It seemed like she could scream, she could beat her fists against the walls, but they would leave no imprint. If this was how it felt like to be misunderstood, perhaps this was how ghosts felt, constrained in a world that took notice upon them no matter how much they tried to leave traces of their existence.

When you're insane, everyone tries to build paths around you, to avoid the fact that you're ill in the mind so that your imperfections can't disrupt the order of their lives. You become almost invisible, a body that they look past and think to themselves, "She will get over this. They always get over these things. It's probably just a phase."

But the fact is that you _can't_ simply forget and return back to your former life as if nothing happened, as if the blood of your daughter wasn't stained upon those hands that suffocated her and threw her down the well. People have notions that you're probably best left alone in an asylum, but she cannot entertain that idea because it would be no better than being trapped in a prison where you are alone with your thoughts that eat away at yourself until you cannot bear to stand without stumbling.


	4. Abraham and Issac

**Misgivings of an act once committed, except once done, it cannot be taken back.**

Nobody understood her, and even if they did, she would never be forgiven. One of the greatest sins that a mother could commit is killing her child by her own hand.

Unless, they loved them enough to let them go.

Her mind wandered towards a Biblical story her mother had told her when she was just a child. In the story, God told Abraham to sacrifice his one and only son as an offering and proof that Abraham was devoted to Him. So Abraham took his son Issac up the precipice of the mountain and upon their arrival, shackled him to the nearest boulder on the pinnacle of the great rocks.

There, he sharpened the great knife that would take away the life of his beloved son, and when it was sharp enough to draw blood upon the touch of skin, he held it precariously over the sacrifice he would make. He might of thought about how Issac would react if he plunged his knife into his soft flesh; he might have thought about it days in advance. He might have doubted God and wondered why He gave him a son in the first place if He was going to take it away from him. But he never once questioned God's authority. It was the reason why he was sacrificing his very own son, even though he loved him dearly as Jacob had loved Joseph and as Jesse loved David.

Issac, who knew little of what was about to befall him, did nothing to forestall his upcoming death. And he could do little about it either since he was chained to the sacrificial rock, wondering why his father was holding the sacrificial knife over him. He might have wondered why he was chosen, instead of the customary lamb that had always been used for sacrifices.

And just as he was about to do the deed, God stopped him. Seeing how he was so willing to do such a tremulous crime to please him, He accosted him with blessings. Abraham would later have many sons; descendants that would number the grains of sand, the stars upon the sky. They would carry on his lifeblood until the end of time, until blood ran thin, and humanity ceased to exist.

Many times, she thought herself as Abraham, and thought of the story countless times, wished for countless times that there was indeed a God to stop her from doing what she had done. If Abraham could commit such a heinous crime in taking away his son's life to please the will of another, then certainly she was no less immoral.

Her judgment was rough, and sought the loopholes that deemed her act justified. She had done no wrong in killing Sadako; it was a sacrifice to save her crumbling marriage with Richard, to save them from harboring a disturbed child who had once tried to kill her. She believed that she had been a good mother, and done everything that a good mother would have done. After all, she had convinced Richard to adopt her when she was a cursed babe, knowing that nobody wanted her.

The good mothers were the ones who labored arduously, put themselves in the risks of being unloved, so that their child could better themselves. It was the good mothers who knew what was best for their child, even if this meant that they would hate them for the rest of their lives.


	5. End

**A ladder falls, a chair overturns, the fire that burns eternally in the tree of life is extinguished. **

The ocean reared up in the presence of a storm, and throws itself on top of the rocks, only to retreat and return with increased force. She remembered the time when she was just a child, when she and Richard would throw rocks over the cliff's edge and watch its descent downwards, propelled by gravity, before it disappeared into the ocean where it barely even made a solid impact. It had simply melted into the dark blues of the churning waves.

She also remembered when Sadako was just a sick, scrawny baby, and she took her to the cliff's edge, holding her precariously like a rock she was about to throw into the waters below. As a baby, Sadako had been particularly stressful, and she had wailed nonstop until her ears rang and in fury, she contemplated discarding her – returning her to the unwanted place where she had started. At the sound of water, Sadako had ceased crying, and flailed helplessly in her arms to escape from the cold arms of water. She had felt guilty back then, for causing a mere baby to react in clear fright over her reckless actions. She had taken her home, and had tucked her into her sleep. She never even thought about that incident again -- until now.

And now she was standing at that cliff, arms spread out wide with her sleeves flapping in the cold and damp wind. She thought nothing other than the repeating fact going over and over in her head like a mantra, "This has to end, this has to end, this has to end. Because it is what Sadako wants. It's want she wants, what she wants, what she wants,"

What everyone wanted.

Like stepping into a calm, stagnant pool to dip her face in, she tipped her body forward, and the rock crumpled a little where her body was before.

* * *

Whew. I have to say that this was sort of a gradual series of drabbles. I wrote this sometime before, but I didn't finish it until now.  
For me, this is a momentuous fanfiction, because I am not a big fan of horror movies. I rather skimmed through the Ring as if it was a cursed video itself. Here's the thing between me and horror movies. There is always a 90% chance that once I finish watching one, I'll have nightmares about it, and I can't sleeepppp. That's why I need my boyfriend if I'm gonna watch a scary movie :(  
But for the parts of the Ring that WASN'T scary, I really liked the plot and the imagery used. Skimmed through Ring 2 after PARTIALLY watching the Ring, and I was like "Ughhhh."  
Anyways I hope you liked this.

Review? Please leave something cool. :) I love feedback.  
Subscribe? I MAKE SO MANY MORE FANFICS, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOWWW __  
Favorite? I know you want to read this again sometime. I used a lot of symbolism, allusions and imagery for those of you who are literate as in the sense that you are those textual freaks like me that likes to analyze every piece of writing. ;)


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